


To Sweetly Hold

by JadedTimberwolf



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Attempted Kidnapping, Drugged Character, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, almost angst, happy/hopeful ending, irresponsible use of magnets, mentions of human/Omnic trafficking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27683749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadedTimberwolf/pseuds/JadedTimberwolf
Summary: Genji and Zenyatta are tasked with investigating a nightclub in Numbani said to be linked to Omnic trafficking, and while Genji knows Zenyatta is perfectly capable of defending himself, he can’t help but feel anxious about his master’s safety throughout the night.When the plan nearly goes awry, Genji is forced to confront his true feelings for his master, and finds out in quite the surprising way that his harbored feelings may not be so one-sided after all.
Relationships: Genji Shimada/Tekhartha Zenyatta, Genyatta
Comments: 2
Kudos: 71





	To Sweetly Hold

“Are you sure about this, Master?”

Genji watched as Zenyatta paused in the middle of unpacking his small travel bag. The Omnic glanced over his shoulder to look back at him. He tilted his head, his nine-point array glinting and curious.

“Of course, Genji,” he replied. Just his voice was enough to bring Genji some ease, but only some. He turned to face Genji fully, sitting down on the edge of the bed and crossing one leg seamlessly over the other. “Why would I not be?”

Genji hesitated then. He did not move from where he sat facing backwards in the room’s lone chair, resting his head on his arms folded casually over the back of it. Before he could answer, there was a loud crash followed by many of Torbjörn’s colorful Swedish curses. Genji instinctively winced at the sudden sound; turret protection for the safehouse’s front door must be having difficulties again. Opposite the cyborg, Zenyatta waited, patient and serene as ever. 

“Is something troubling you, my student?” Zenyatta prompted then. Genji knew that Zenyatta already knew the answer to such a question. Without his visor, Genji could not hide how his eyes darted off to the side, suddenly finding it difficult to meet his master’s gaze.

“I am just…nervous.”

This mission was not something of the new Overwatch’s usual caliber. While definitely not a stranger to infiltration missions from his days in Blackwatch, casing a nightclub in Numbani still felt a tad strange, especially with Zenyatta alongside him. While normally social missions were Jesse’s scene, Winston had enough reason to believe this particular nightclub had recently developed ties to a larger Omnic trafficking ring ever since it came under new management some months ago. Lena, Brigitte, and (reluctantly) Torbjörn had come with them to Numbani for emergency backup, but ultimately the plan hinged on Genji and Zenyatta posing as normal patrons to investigate the reported disappearances there. It hinged on making themselves vulnerable.

In response to his student’s statement, the monk’s synth chimed with a small laugh, although there was no malice behind it. “I am told that nightclubs used to be your favorite places to frequent. I am sure the ladies there are still going to love you, Genji. No need to be so shy.”

Despite himself, Genji balked, shooting his master a look. Zenyatta chuckled again, and the monk earned a wadded ball of socks hurled in his direction.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Genji said, leaning forward against the chair’s back again. “I am just...worried. For your safety.”

Zenyatta turned serious then. Genji could tell by how his master’s shoulders straightened slightly, shifting by just a fraction, but Genji had long since learned to read Zenyatta’s body language and microexpressions in the years they had known each other. The monk was not offended; instead, he mused over his student’s words, considering the weight behind them. 

“I appreciate your concern,” he spoke after a moment, “but you and I both know that I am quite capable of defending myself, Genji.”

Genji couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “I know.”

It was true. The cyborg could not help but think back to his early days under Zenyatta’s tutelage, how Zenyatta had repeatedly kicked his ass and laid him flat on the mat during their training sessions together. Back then it had infuriated him, when he had only seen Zenyatta as nothing more than a nuisance, a fragile machine with nothing better to do than stick his nose into other people’s personal business. Of course, he knew better now. He had come to deeply respect his master and his wisdom, owing him so much: his life, his happiness, a chance to start anew. Deep down, Genji knew that this respect had blossomed into something more, something he dare not speak aloud to anyone, at least not yet, not now. Still, he quietly cultivated the feeling, letting it grow and warm the depths of his very being whenever Zenyatta laughed, whenever he joked, whenever they sat together in the early mornings to watch the sunrise before meditation.

He loved Zenyatta, this he knew, even if his master currently did not. Which is _precisely_ why Genji could not help but worry.

The cyborg’s musings were abruptly interrupted when his own hoodie was flung unceremoniously into his face. With a playful huff, he grabbed it and flung it over his shoulder, noting how Zenyatta had turned his attention back to his belongings.

“Besides,” Zenyatta continued, casually taking a moment to examine the shirt in his hands, “I will have my brightest pupil right there beside me should anything go wrong. Isn’t that right, my star?”

Genji breathed deep, trying to hide just how much that nickname made his heart flutter in his chest. 

“Of course, Master,” he replied. The cyborg stood and began to get himself ready for the night, gathering what he needed and stealing away into the bathroom for a moment to recollect himself.

By God, he had it _bad._

—

 _The Epsilon_ was what Genji had come to expect from night clubs in the ritzier high-tech cities. Loud music, good drinks, and neon UV-lighting practically everywhere. Being in Numbani, it was not surprising that the majority of the patrons were Omnics, and as long as Genji kept his visor on, it was difficult for the average person to tell that he was partly human. For now, he and Zenyatta were blending in perfectly. 

So far so good. He just hoped that it would stay that way.

Zenyatta sat beside him in their booth, the pair of them tucked off to the side. He swirled his drink with his straw as they looked around, becoming acquainted with the layout of the main floor. The two of them had ordered drinks in order to look less conspicuous, but the drinks had barely been touched, both agents too focused on the task at hand. Genji’s eyes scanned the crowd for anything out of place. Winston’s sources were not quite sure how exactly the traffickers were getting Omnics in and out of here as quietly as they did, but there were many ways an unsuspecting Omnic could have their systems compromised if they were not careful. They just had to be vigilant.

“Notice anything yet?” Genji asked. He had been watching the two staff doors he could see from his current position, taking note of those who went in and out. So far, it had only been the human staff going into the back stores to fetch more alcohol. Zenyatta, who had been watching the dance floor for any staggering, easy targets, gave a thoughtful hum in response.

“Nothing concerning so far,” he replied. The monk had abandoned his yellow kasaya pants for black slacks and a simple white shirt, a dark leather jacket borrowed from Pharah draped over his shoulders. The jacket was almost too big for him, his lithe frame barely filling in the broad shoulders, and Genji found himself subtly avoiding looking directly in his master’s direction. He had rarely seen Zenyatta in casual clothes, and he had to admit, the look was striking. Not to mention a tad distracting, in the best (and worst) of ways.

“I suggest we split up.”

The words startled Genji out of his focus. He looked to Zenyatta beside him, his master’s serene faceplate staring back in return.

“You think so? You sure?”

“Certainly. I believe we will be able to cover more ground if we sweep separate sides of the floor, and perhaps our targets would be more likely to engage with us, if we were both on our own.”

 _That’s precisely what I’m afraid of,_ Genji muttered within the safety of his thoughts. Still, he trusted Zenyatta, and he could not bring himself to deny him anything, even this. 

They went to opposite sides of the floor as agreed, staggering their separation with Genji first pretending to go to the bathroom a minute or so ahead of Zenyatta’s departure from the booth. When he returned, he was relieved to see his master still up and in one piece, now standing by the bar as he waited to order another Omnic-friendly drink. 

He tried to stifle down the rising paranoia in his chest, feeling it inevitably begin to trickle down into guilt. He knew, he _knew_ that his fears were unfounded. Zenyatta was strong, and capable, and wise beyond his years. Their mission was marked low-risk with no intention of hostile engagement. He knew that the two of them would gather up the intel they required and return to the safehouse alive and well, his master by his side. There was absolutely nothing to be worried about.

And yet. _And yet._

Genji had heard of the horrors of Omnic trafficking, encountering the fringes of such circles in his many years of morbid experience. In his youth his family had occasionally dabbled in the illegal buying and selling of Omnics, a footnote nestled casually alongside his family’s many other sins, and Blackwatch had been involved in breaking up their fair share of trafficking as well. Back then he had never put much thought into any of it, too absorbed within his playboy lifestyle or his personal grief to care. But now he had come to fully realize the true tragedy, the horror of such a thing. While not unlike human trafficking, Omnic trafficking had another, even more insidious layer to it: with enough effort, Omnics could hacked, reprogrammed, factory reset, erasing whatever identity they had made for themselves and carefully, pain-stakingly reduced to their basest of programming. Their intelligence, their sentience, their entire sense of being, all wrapped up and stamped down and squandered until only the broken shell of an unquestioning servant remained.

The thought of Zenyatta, his dearest Zenyatta, his light, his love, his guiding star, being stripped of his soul, chained and muzzled and whittled down into nothing more than a mindless drone, an emotionless slave, or something even _worse_ … It was enough to make Genji nearly sick to his stomach. 

Genji was tempted to actually take off his visor and down his whole drink, hoping the alcohol would calm his nerves, drown his anxieties and allow him to properly focus. He stalked the edges of the main dance floor, trying not to think about Zenyatta, about anything except for the integrity of the mission. Eventually a pair of human ladies had noticed him and began to giggle incessantly, batting their eyelashes as they both waved in his direction. He waved back out of politeness, pretending to check his phone and answer a call as a quick escape from further conversation. The two staff exits had been untouched for some time now. He had still come up with no solid leads for any suspicious activity. 

It was then that he noticed it. Across the floor he saw Zenyatta, still at the bar, although this time he was accompanied by a tall man who seemed rather chatty. The two were sat next to each other, Zenyatta again with one leg crossed over the other with his elbows on the bar, his chin resting lightly atop the backs of his folded hands. Genji could not hear their conversation over the loud music and the great distance between them, but the man seemed to be leaning in close, as if speaking in hushed tones, a bright smirk across his face. If Genji did not know any better, it almost appeared as if the two were flirting. 

Genji slowly made his way closer, hoping to catch a snippet of whatever they were talking about from a safe distance away. Over the music he heard his master laugh at whatever joke the man had just said, sounding genuine for the most part, but Genji saw that Zenyatta was playing this carefully. He had not touched any of the drinks shared between them, and his current posture, feigning interest, kept him fully facing the man, making it hard for this stranger to make any sudden moves. 

Genji was about to write off the man as a normal bar patron when it happened: the bartender made a motion and called for Zenyatta’s attention for something, causing the Omnic to turn and look. Then suddenly the man slipped something out of his inner jacket pocket — a magnet, Genji noticed, large and industrial grade — and shoved it directly into Zenyatta’s chest while he was distracted. Zenyatta seized briefly, spine stiffening as if just hit with a jolt of electricity, before his shoulders sagged and he began to slump forward. Effortlessly the man grabbed him and slung one of Zenyatta’s arms over his shoulder, moving to stand the both of them up. The bartender then simply returned to what he was doing, as if nothing had happened.

In a flash, Genji’s fear abruptly boiled over into pure, seething rage. His hand was already on the hilt of his wakizashi where it lay hidden underneath his clothes as he stormed over, just barely keeping himself from entering a full on sprint, trying not to alert anyone else as to what was going on. The man led a stumbling, barely-standing Zenyatta through the staff door just beside the bar. Genji was hot on his tail, hindered only slightly as pushed his way through a few drunken crowds of people, not caring how rude he may seem.

How dare they touch his master. How _dare_ they.

Genji stormed straight through the staff door, the door itself swinging with enough force to go flying all the way back into the wall. He found himself in a corridor that connected the main floor to the kitchen, but off to his right, he just barely saw the door of the emergency fire exit click closed at the very end of the hall. Out of sight from the crowd, he did not hesitate to run now, closing the distance and charging through the fire escape at breakneck speed. The dragon inside him was feeding him, making his every fiber brim with an electric, white-hot wrath. 

The man from the bar startled as Genji showed himself, turning with Zenyatta still slumped over his shoulder. The Omnic looked as if he was struggling to keep his head held upright, his blue forehead array flickering as he struggled to fully process what was going on. The man was now flanked by two armed goons, who immediately turned to train their pulse rifles on the sudden intruder. Behind the three of them idled an unmarked van, the back door open with the intention of smuggling Zenyatta inside and off to who-knows-where. Genji unsheathed his wakizashi, flicking his wrist and allowing a set of shurikens to dispense into his grasp.

“Get your filthy hands off of him. _Now.”_

Genji did not intend to ask twice. After a moment, the man holding Zenyatta merely laughed. 

“Oh yeah? And what’s a punk like you gonna do if we don’t?”

“Try me.” Beneath his visor, Genji’s eyes flashed a neon green, his dragon’s mighty roar practically ringing his ears. “Go on. _Try.”_

—

Genji sat on the curb behind _The Epsilon_ nightclub, listening to the muffled music that still rumbled back inside. The partying went on entirely uninterrupted, as if Genji had not just slaughtered three men in the alleyway just outside in cold blood. To his credit, in his utter rage he had maintained enough wherewithal to extract some much-needed intel from the man who had taken Zenyatta hostage. All it took was intimidation and some dangling off of a rooftop to get him to cry out a list of names and associates, after which Genji immediately stabbed him through the heart and let him fall. Their bodies now lay cluttered in the back of their van as a warning for the rest of the traffickers, and Winston would have enough information to keep him busy with a follow-up report for weeks to come. A successful mission, more or less, despite the near-devastating mishap in the middle.

By now his rage had subsided, the dragon within him sated with the danger defeated. The traffickers would not notice the disturbance until closing, and the street they were left waiting on was fairly quiet. The rest of the team would be there to pick them up and take them back to the safehouse soon. His current problem, however, consisted mainly of a very frazzled and _very_ giggly Zenyatta. 

Torbjörn had insisted over the comms that Zenyatta would be fine. The magnet had merely been used to temporarily disrupt some key connections within Zenyatta’s central processor, slowing him down enough to stop him from resisting as they dragged him out. The engineer ensured Genji that the damage to Zenyatta’s systems was temporary, and the magnetic destabilization would correct itself if given enough time. In the meantime, this left Zenyatta, for lack of a better word, absolutely fucking _wasted._

Zenyatta was seated in Genji’s lap, his arms haphazardly thrown around the cyborg’s shoulders as the main thing keeping him mostly upright. Genji supported his master’s weight by bracing his back with one arm, making sure he did not accidentally lose his grip and hit his head against the sidewalk. Zenyatta laughed at nothing again, the sound warm and vibrant despite his compromised status, as his head lazily lolled to the side. His forehead array flickered again, brighter than before, but still unable to entirely power back on.

Despite everything, Genji could not help but chuckle along with his master a bit. The tidal wave of emotions from tonight had left him both mentally and physically exhausted, but he was glad that Zenyatta was here, safe in his arms. His visor sat on the curb next to him, Genji having removed it earlier to take in some of the crisp night air. He stared down at Zenyatta, a tired smile laid bare on his scarred lips.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“I just had an epiphany, my student,” he spoke slowly, a lilt of another laugh still apparent in his tone. “If I think, does a submarine swim?”

“I don’t know, does it?” 

A metal finger clumsily moved to press against Genji’s lips, shushing him.

“Uh-uh. No,” Zenyatta slurred, lifting his head the best he could in his current state. “ _I’m_ the master. I get to ask the philosophical questions.” 

Genji chuckled again, gently grabbing Zenyatta’s wrist to guide his hand back to its place over his shoulder. “I suppose that’s right. How are you feeling?”

“I feel _goooood,_ ” the Omnic drawled, his head falling backwards and going limp again, and Genji almost lost his grip on him this time. “I feel like...like I am _floating,_ almost.”

“Master, you literally float all the time.”

“Bullshit.” 

Genji practically _snorted._ While Zenyatta certainly had his silly side, this was absolutely taking the cake. He hoped that he and Zenyatta would be able to laugh about this moment in the future, if Zenyatta even remembered this whole exchange after he recovered.

A thought sobered Genji then, reminding him of _why_ Zenyatta was even like this, what the both of them had almost lost in an instant. If he had not been there, if he had faltered for even just a moment…

Genji felt Zenyatta shift again, his hands clumsily moving to grasp either side of cyborg’s unmasked face. There was little strength behind the motion, more like a caress, if anything at all, and Genji returned his attention to Zenyatta in his lap. His master gazed up at him, faceplate plain and unreadable. 

“Why so sad, Genji?” He asked, tilting his head out of curiosity again. “I quite like it when you smile instead. It makes you look—“ his synth faltered for a moment then, something akin to a hiccup, “—really handsome.” 

Genji felt his cheeks instantly go red. He had not been expecting the sudden compliment, amazed how Zenyatta said it so easily, so freely. Yet he kept his composure, realizing that Zenyatta was unable to fully process the words coming out of his synth right now. He should not glean anything from it, not while his master half-sat, half-lay in his lap in a giggling, unsteady heap. 

Zenyatta still stared up at him intently, and Genji realized that he was waiting for a serious answer. With a sigh, Genji reached up a hand to hold one of Zenyatta’s own against his cheek.

“You had me scared there, you know,” he said softly. “I know you said I shouldn’t worry about your safety. I know you are capable. But I still worry, I really do. And if I hadn’t been there, you would have been taken. Reprogrammed. I could never have lived with the guilt if that happened.” _I would rather die than let that happen._

“Oh, Genji,” Zenyatta sighed. He attempted to sit up fully, but his grip on Genji faltered again, and this time he ended up with his head clumsily pressed against Genji’s armored chest. Genji let Zenyatta’s hand return to his shoulder so that his master could attempt to right himself, but in the end, Zenyatta decided to stay where he was, his head now resting within the crook of Genji’s neck. Genji still supported Zenyatta’s back, his arms tightening around his master’s frame, refusing to let him ago. Genji felt tears begin to well up behind his eyes, the realization dawning on him then that one of his worst fears had almost been made manifest in the worst possible way. He had almost lost Zenyatta, _his_ Zenyatta, his mentor, his guiding light. He had almost lost his best friend. The love of his life. 

“Please don’t cry,” Zenyatta said weakly all of a sudden, his sluggish movements preventing him from looking fully at Genji at this angle. “I don’t like it when you cry.” 

And so Genji bit back the tears. He could not deny Zenyatta anything. He would move mountains for him, if the monk only so much as asked. 

“I’m sorry,” the cyborg replied, holding Zenyatta close. “You are just... very important to me. I owe you so much, Zenyatta.” 

“I care about you too, my star,” his master replied. His synth crackled again, this time sounding similar to a yawn, as his forehead array began to dim. A short pause. “I love you.” 

Genji froze. He sat there in silence, unable to respond. He feared that if he questioned it, brought attention to it, the moment would vanish into a figment of his imagination. Had he heard that right? Had Zenyatta really said…? 

“Master?” He tried after a moment. When he received no response, he looked down to see that Zenyatta had finally powered down into recharge mode, his internal mechanisms desperate to begin stabilizing themselves. The cyborg paused again, taking in the sight of his master sitting in his lap with his head resting peacefully on his shoulder. 

He wondered if Zenyatta had meant what he said, if he would wake up sometime tomorrow having completely forgotten the entirety of the night’s events after being hit with the magnet. He wondered if Zenyatta would remember how Genji had just bared his heart to him, and how Zenyatta had done the same in return, only more truthful, more direct. He was the braver and bolder of the two of them, as always. 

Genji sat there for a long while contemplating, his heart full in a way he could not fully articulate with words. He tilted his head down and pressed a gentle, barely-there kiss against Zenyatta’s forehead before shifting to rest his cheek against his master’s head. From where they sat, Genji only half-heard the car full of Overwatch agents rolling down the street and drifting to a stop next to the both of them. 

“I love you, too,” Genji whispered finally. And in that moment he knew, regardless of whether Zenyatta could hear him or not, that he could never take back those four simple words. 


End file.
